


A Soul and The Sea

by Yuni30



Series: Nymph Hugs [10]
Category: Ni no Kuni
Genre: Belief, Best Friends, Gen, Hope, Hopeful Ending, Near Death Experiences, Old Age, Old Friends, Platonic Soulmates, Soulmates, The Other World, fisherman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-19 09:19:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14234148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuni30/pseuds/Yuni30
Summary: Branded as a madman, really a lonely fisherman. Every day teenage boy, really a savior of a world. A brazen thief, really a proud prince.All connected by strings of fate.(This work can also be found as a drabble chapter for "Nymph Hugs" over on Fanfiction.net along with its sibling works.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Like A Brother](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/368898) by Wherever Girl. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, geez. I've done it now. I wrote the longest in the series… I don't want to scare you with how long. Just enjoy the madness. Kind of. Not really.
> 
> We'll be exploring one of the possible ideas of who Swaine's soulmate is (as well as a few other's but Swaine's the main target). I really wish we knew. Oh well.
> 
> Thank you all who have commented or reviewed my mess of a series. Thank you all who have favorited! There are so many now! I especially would love to give a shout out to [moonbird](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1576308/) and her story, "[Return of the Porcine Prince](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10791203/1/Return-of-the-Porcine-Prince)". Thank you for the inspiration! (She may be the reason I so ambitiously wrote such a long one-shot now. Sorry.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the fish. I don't own the sky. I don't own you. I just own my soul. (I'm sorry. Waxing a bit philosophically, there aren't I?)

An old man sat on the bank of the river that ran right through the quiet small town of Motorville. For as long as he could remember, he had loved to come out and fish. It allowed him to get away, to escape the drama and hardships of life, even if for a couple of hours. Occasionally he would see people walk down to the river to watch the fish. To them, he would smile, thankful that they had decided to stop and observe nature with him, whether they realized he was there or not.

He was a lonely sort, the fisherman. No one dared to talk to him, these days. No one dared talk to the old man who went mad a year or so ago, going on about dreams and visions he had. He had tried to stop himself. He had tried to keep his mouth shut. He just couldn't help it. The fantastic things that came to mind were just too good to keep to himself.

After all the ridicule, though, he found peace in nature. Nothing judged him here. I wish my sons were here, he contemplated, staring into the water. He took note of the short grey beard and mustache he had grown over the years and an old ragged cap that sat atop short greying hair. Oh, Jake… I remember those days, fishin' with your old man, he mused.

When he finally looked up he beheld the sight of a young red-head with a determined look, his lips pursed, his eyes focused. The old man raised an eyebrow, still waiting for a bite on his line. Suddenly, the boy took off into the water, aiming for the deepest part of the river.

The fisherman watched from the shore, curious about the odd behavior. Not many people would think to swim in the stream. Then again, not many people fished here, either.

To his horror, the boy started to thrash about, barely able to stay afloat. Abandoning his fishing rod, the once idle elder ran into the river, eventually diving after the distressed youth. He managed to get to him before he went under.

"Easy, now," he guided, pulling the kid closer to shore. When they could both stand, the older man pressed his hands to his hips, glaring at the boy. His eyes, though harsh, showed a hint of worry. "Just what the hell did you think you were doin', sonny," he snapped.

"I…," the boy began. "I was trying to teach myself how to swim." He looked down at the clear surface of the water.

The fisherman threw his left hand up. "Well, ya didn't have to go so deep! Ever heard of baby steps?!" He shook his head, his arm now back by his side.

The boy winced before looking up at the old man. He noticed he wore a grey plaid long sleeve shirt and a pair of blue-jean overalls. He had a tan, though slightly pale from the recent scare. He seemed thin and his skin openly displayed his age, the numerous small scars, and wrinkles from a long productive life. His eyes looked tired as a result.

"I- Err…," the boy faltered. "I'm sorry to worry you, mister. I'll remember that next time...," he politely apologized, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Thank you for saving me."

The man slouched and swayed, looking to his rod and reel. He looked at the boy again and sighed. He shook his head again before returning to his fishing equipment. "Don't get yourself killed, ya hear," he warned.

For the rest of the late morning and early afternoon, the fisherman warily returned to his hobby. He had been keeping an eye on the boy who had thankfully stayed in the shallows. He seemed to be practicing his ability to tread water by tucking his legs in a little to simulate it. He saw the child occasionally stand when he didn't feel sure.

"Hey, kid," he called, pulling a soda contained in a glass bottle from the cooler he kept his lunch in. "Do you wanna take a break? Maybe grab a drink?"

The boy looked over at the man offering refreshments. All conventions of society warned against accepting food from him. Though, the man did just save him from drowning. Shrugging, the young teen walked to shore. He figured he owed the elderly man at least some company for his trouble.

He sat down next to the fisherman who had propped his fishing pole in his tackle box. "Thank you, sir." He took the bottled drink and opened it, taking a sip.

Likewise, the fisherman had his own bottle of soda, resting his arm on one knee. "So…," he began. "Why'd you want to learn how to swim so bad," he curiously asked.

The boy looked at the elderly man with a sad smile. "I… I lost my mom here. I couldn't really swim then either," he recalled. "I mean, one time… I kind of did, but my feet could kind of touch the bottom of the lake," he corrected thinking of an experience unknown to the man.

"Ah… Sorry 'bout that, kid. I can understand your pain a bit, there. I lost my eldest son, Jake, to some sort of heart condition years back. My youngest is all I got for family," the old man claimed, looking down.

The boy sat in mild contemplation. "At least you have someone to lean on, right," he finally asked. To his shock, the man solemnly shook his head.

"My youngest is a big shot artist in the city. Real prim and proper, but also a bit of a show-off." He sighed, letting out a wry chuckle. "At least that's what people say. He's a real sweet gentleman. Just kind of proud."

Before the boy could respond, the fishing rod jerked to life, nearly falling out of the man's tackle box.

The man leaped to his feet enthusiastically, grabbing the rod. "Got a live one!" He motioned to the kid to move out of the way. "Step aside," he coolly advised as he began to rhythmically pull on the instrument, winding the handle on the reel when he felt the need.

"You caught something," the red-head asked excitedly from a few feet back.

The elder nodded, gritting his teeth as he strained. "Yeah, and it's a real fighter," he strained, pulling harder and harder on the pole. He suddenly felt hands around his waist and glanced back.

"Let me help you," came an eager youthful call. The fisherman nodded gratefully and he began to step back with his helper.

Suddenly, the pole straightened and then wobbled, a giant shimmering fish flying out of the water. They fell back, the kid releasing the old man just enough so he wouldn't be trapped under him. They sat in awe as the fish majestically landed line and all on the ground and to the left of the odd pair.

He laughed boisterously as he picked the flopping fish up, removing the hook, and held it by its mouth. He turned to the boy and flashed a wide, pleased smile as he showed off their catch.

"What a fish," The fisherman cried happily. He walked over to the other cooler and placed it inside. "What a fish, indeed." He rinsed his hands in the lake and dried them on his overalls. He gave a hardy slap on the back to the kid. "Thanks, boyo! I wouldn't've been able to catch it if it weren't for you, let me tell you!"

"Haha," the kid laughed. "You're welcome, mister…"

"Eldon." He reached out a hand to both help him up and shake his new friend's hand.

"Oliver," the boy introduced as he accepted his elder's offer, giving a firm handshake when he was up.

"Pleased to meet you, Oliver…"

~*~*~

Over the next month, Oliver made it a routine to check in with Eldon after school. He always packed an extra fruit for him to eat as he fished. On days when it was raining, or about to rain, he simply hoped the old man was okay.

Eventually, though, this peace didn't last. Miss Leila eventually found out through the town gossip. She'd wondered why Oliver had taken such a newfound interest in fruit.

It wasn't that the young boy didn't want anyone to know, he just didn't tell anyone.

"Oliver, sweetie, can I talk to you for a second," she asked before he left for school, drying her hands from the breakfast dishes on her apron. The youth nodded respectfully and paused at the door. She approached him and looked down with a kind smile.

"I know you've been going out to see that man by the river. I know you're concerned about him, but he really isn't safe to be around," she explained as nicely as she could. "He… He's kind of unstable. He lost a lot of his family years ago and…," she paused, looking for a delicate way to put it. "He started acting strangely about a year after." She sighed sadly. She noticed the confused look on Oliver's face. "Look, I know you want to help, honey, but please- for me- can you stay away from him?"

Oliver looked down in the fretful confrontation. Eldon seemed pretty kind and peaceful to him. He always was open for a good chat. He had some pretty good advice most of the time. At one point he even showed the kid how to rig up a fishing pole and even cast it. All in all, the old fisherman was a good friend.

But if miss Leila of all people didn't trust him…

He shook his head and looked up. "How'd he act weird," he asked.

She looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath, composing herself. "I'm sorry, honey. He's not all there." She closed her eyes and placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "Please, just leave him alone. I promised your mother I'd try my best to keep you safe."

Oliver finally, reluctantly, nodded with a worried look. She pulled him into a loving embrace and sent him on his way to his studies.

Who was going to be there for the old man? He had no one close for him to talk to. The boy realized that, despite her best intentions, the kind shopkeeper's request did more harm than good. Eldon needed a friend. He needed someone to keep him stable if he really was as miss Leila said he was.

~*~*~

On a bright sunny day, Oliver had decided to try his hand at swimming again. He was going to swim far away from the old man so he wouldn't see him. He didn't want to crush the elder's spirit. As he approached, though, he noticed the fisherman wasn't in his usual spot near the bridge.

Something in the young wizard's gut screamed at him. He rushed back to his house. He put on a pair of brown pants and a white grid patterned shirt and hastily stuffed it in. Grabbing the spell tome and the elegant wand, Astra, he cast Gateway: the bridge between worlds.

Something wasn't right. Without thinking, he forgot he had traveled from the capital of the Pig Iron Empire. He forgot he had done so right in front of the Porcine Palace gates.

"Halt- Wait… The savior," one of the guards stammered when he realized who the red-head was. "Wha- How did you know about the state of Emperor Gascon," he questioned.

Oliver's eyes widened at what he heard. He did halt, but it wasn't out of orders from the brown-haired guard dressed in formal but flexible armor- a change since the half done pig suits the wizard had encountered a year ago.

"What about Emperor Gascon? What's wrong," the boy quickly asked.

"He- he's been stuck in his room for days. He's stopped patrolling the city."

"And he's been complaining about his chest. He keeps saying it aches," the other guard chimed in. They both looked pale as they exchanged glances.

"Please, if anyone can help him, it's you, pure-hearted one," the guard that originally spoke addressed, nodding.

The wizard determinably nodded and bolted past the guards and into the innermost section of the palace. Just on the other side of the hallway of the Great Sage Marcassin's room was Emperor Gascon's room.

He approached the pink doors and knocked. He heard a pained groan from the inside. "S-Swaine? It's me, Oliver…," he greeted from behind closed doors. He heard the former thief stumble and shift.

The doors opened to reveal a tired looking ruler wearing a gold shirt and dark blue pants- an outfit the young savior knew him to wear only in Castaway Cove. Hair that may have once been neatly combed disheveled and his clean-shaven face pale. He was slouching from the pain of whatever afflicted him. He almost looked sick to his stomach. He leaned against the door he had just opened, staring down at his friend. "Now's not a good time to visit, Oliver," he complained groggily, holding a hand to his chest.

"You look awful," the boy gasped as he leaned forward. "Are you sick?"

A slow shake of the head and wince was his response. "The physicians say that I'm as fit as ever… Marcassin doesn't know what it is either." He winced again, gasping for air. He let himself fall to the ground. "It _hurts_ Oliver…," he wheezed, rolling his head to at least look at his friend.

Oliver didn't hesitate. He walked to the emperor and placed a hand on his chest. It was hot, like the man's very soul was on fire. The wizard closed his eyes and cast a healing spell. He heard a sigh of relief and all tension from his friend's body released.

"Thank you… but it won't be enough. It'll return," Swaine warned, the pain he previously had seeping into his words.

Oliver stepped back, watching the emperor catch his breath. Regardless of the temporary fix, he still looked pale. Even if he wasn't in pain, he was still getting weaker and weaker. He closed his eyes, trying to think of a solution. Is it his soulmate that's causing this…? The hero thought.

There had to be someone in their world that looked or sounded like the thief. He looked at Swaine and studied his face. Perhaps it was related to Eldon's disappearance?

His eyes widened. The tired look in Eldon's eyes- he had seen it before. He was an expert fisherman and could catch anything with his trusty fishing pole. Just a bit of tackle here, a knot there, some top-quality bait, and the old man was set to nab a fish right out of the water.

Not unlike the emperor thief and his trick-shot pistols…

Oliver shook Swaine, alerting him. "I think I know what's wrong."

~*~*~

The wizard and the emperor thief had traveled back to Motorville. Oliver had to support him half of the time they walked. The pain had returned and with a vengeance. Every other moment, Oliver heard him hiss in the air as his chest continued to ache.

"That poor man. He's got no one to take care of him," a woman empathized. For a moment, the two thought they could see the grimacing, shivering royal.

"The town crazy? Really," a man responded from the other side of the fence.

The woman scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't say that if you knew what led him down that road. One of his sons _died_. His parents have been gone for years. I'd probably go a little crazy, too!" The woman nodded. "I think I'll stop and see him. I'll bring him some medicine," the lady recalled.

"Oliver," Swaine seethed, shaking, addressing the arguing two.

The boy nodded and walked up to the pair. "'Scuse me, ma'am," he interjected. "But could you tell me where he lives? I'd like to check up on him, too."

"Oh, if it isn't Oliver! Such a sweet caring boy, you are," the lady beamed. She then nodded at him. "Yes, last house near the bridge heading out of town. Can't miss it."

Oliver nodded firmly and thanked his neighbor. He waved and turned around and walked past Swaine who slowly began to follow after.

"So this man…," his friend started. "You believe he's my soulmate?"

"Well, he's not well. If he's dying, it would explain some things," the wizard observed, slowing his pace so the pained man could keep up. It hurt to have to do that. The thief was always quick to keep close to the other three. There usually wasn't much of a gap.

But this… whatever it was. It seemed to drag the man down.

They found the house. It was a small, but a neat one-story house. The yard had patches of dirt exposed, but the grass was trimmed. The exterior had seen better days, it seemed, but the porch was organized well. It even had a rocking chair.

"What's this," Swaine asked as he peered into a bucket. It contained a bunch of dismantled reels and parts. This made him raise an eyebrow. "Someone's got a hobby," he remarked with a weak smirk.

Oliver knocked on the door. A weak, "Who's there?" was the response he received. "It's Oliver," the wizard called.

Silence prevailed for a moment. The two waited with baited breath.

"Come in," the tired voice called, followed by a violent coughing fit.

"He really is dying," the former thief commented, wincing suddenly. "Oliver… we have to do something…"

The wizard gave a determined nod and opened the door. They went through a hall with wood paneling as its design. A small table sat against the left wall of the corridor with three pictures.

The two stopped in front of the pictures and observed them. The people in them were from another time in the man's life. The ones to the side had to have been his sons, Jake and Liam. Liam was easily spotted, he had paint splattered all over his face and short black hair. He seemed to be laughing at his own mess with sparkling eyes.

"He…," Swaine began, smiling fondly at the picture while leaning against the far wall. "He reminds me of Marcassin… Wonder what he got up to."

"He's a famous artist," Oliver cheered, beginning to look at Jake's picture.

That made the royal chuckle. "An artist. Of course! Even here, we're just the opposite."

Jake's showed strong and noble a police officer with a square jaw. His eyes were hard and determined. His dark brown hair was styled like a military officer's. On the badge in the photo, Oliver made out the word, "Sheriff". He looked like a man who took the law seriously.

"He looks kind of familiar," Oliver noted, picking up the photo and showing it to his friend. "He's dead now, but I feel like we've met."

"Maybe his soulmate… I don't know…," Swaine thought aloud. They really needed to get moving. The pain was getting worse, though he tried his best to hide it. He took a closer look at the man in the photo. His eyes widened and he took it from Oliver, forgetting his weakness for a moment. "You _have_ met his soulmate! Th-that face! He looks just like- Oh that's rich," he stammered then laughed. "Hah! The Emperor of Hamelin, my father, was my soulmate's son! How odd is that?!"

He laughed boisterously for a moment before another pang of pain shot through him. He doubled over, his left hand beginning to lose grip on the picture.

The boy took the picture and put it back. He turned to look at Swaine who had sunk to the floor. The emperor hissed in pain, the strength of it forcing his eyes shut. When it finally subsided enough, he looked up at Oliver, tears in his eyes. "Why...," Swaine whimpered. "Why does it hurt so much? Tell me, Oliver." The former thief held his own shoulders. A chill seemed to run through him and he shivered. "I- I don't want to die…,"

Oliver kneeled down to meet his friend's eyes. The kid studied the man's brown eyes, looking for some sort of explanation- anything to ease his emotional pain. Despite how pale he looked, there was a stubborn fire in them that flickered.

Gascon "Swaine", Emperor of Hamelin and the Pig Iron Empire, wasn't ready to go. He wasn't ready to give in to death just yet, the boy realized. That's where the conflict was. That's where the immense pain, stemmed from. He looked towards the room at the end of the hall, then back at the royal.

"We'll fix this," Oliver nodded, pressing a hand to Swaine's chest, giving him another dose of healing magic. It was just enough to ebb the pain this time. He got up and held a hand out to the weak royal.

Nodding weakly, but with a resolute face, the older man grabbed his hand and pulled himself up. He almost fell but was caught by Oliver. Despite his tenacity, his body seemed heavy and unstable.

The two walked into the room to find a man lying in a bed covered up in cream sheets looking just as pale as the former thief. He turned his attention to Oliver. "Ah, if it isn't the river boy," he joked in a forced whisper.

"Eldon," Oliver nodded, concerned for the man. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I stopped coming to keep you company. I wanted to but- but-," he apologized frantically, cut off by a bony reassuring hand resting on the kid's cheek.

"It's alright. I figured whoever's watchin' over you had found out. It's not your fault, kiddo," he weakly reassured. He coughed violently again.

Swaine had sat in a large comfortable chair, leaning back in it, and watched the two. He's considered an outcast? He thought. He saw another photo of the man on the table next to him. It was a picture of him and his two boys on a fishing trip.

In the photo, he had a kind smile, hugging both the younger Jake and Liam. Eldon's beard hadn't started to take over his jaw yet, for it was still a brown goatee. His mustache was still sparse compared to the bushy mustache the old man sported now. It was there, the royal saw the resemblance in the fishing hat adorned man.

How the hell? How in the flying hell did this man get such a bad reputation? Swaine thought, confused. He looked back at the ailing figure in the bed Oliver kept company.

"Did I ever tell ya about a world I dreamed about one day," Eldon deliriously asked the boy. "It was a world like no other… Heck, it's what got me branded as the town crazy," he acknowledged.

"Huh," Oliver asked, leaning in. "You dreamed of another world?"

The old man nodded, smiling before coughing again. "Another world. Specifically a giant machine city. It all seemed so real. I dreamed I was a prince… then a brazen thief…" He sighed, looking away to the wall.

The former thief's attention snapped up. It was no wonder the house felt so comfortable to him. He had dreamed of this place himself. It seemed so ordinary, though, that he didn't say anything about it. They had crossed paths without even realizing it.

Eldon chuckled quietly to himself. His eyes shifted to Oliver. "I wouldn't be surprised if you thought I was crazy, too. A world like that could never exist."

The boy grabbed the man's hand firmly with both of his own. He looked into his eyes. "But it does. You aren't crazy!" He shook his head, tears beginning to form from sheer determination. "It's all real. The city, the prince- the thief you dreamed about, all of it!" He looked Eldon directly in the eye.

The old man shook his head. "Don't pity me, boy. Even you don't believe a dying seventy year-," he stopped short when the wizard vigorously shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I've seen it! The machine city! It's called Hamelin! I…," he looked down, tears beginning to fall, this time out of desperation. "I want to take you… I- I want you to see it… I want you to meet him- the thief. He's a good friend of mine."

The elderly man looked at the boy for a long while. Never had anyone believed him about the other world he once saw? Everyone wrote it off as a sad grief-stricken man escaping from his trauma. They began to think otherwise when he continued his insane ramblings through the next year. He was the town mad-man. He was the one, despite being a loving father himself, parents told to steer clear. Innocent ignorance was all it was.

Oliver didn't care, to him. He wouldn't be there, at his possible deathbed if he did. Did this kid really see this other world- who knew, but he sure seemed confident in his beliefs.

"You really believe it's real, don't ya," Eldon asked quietly.

"How much more convincing do you need," Swaine finally snapped from the oversized chair, forgetting he couldn't be heard. "Honestly…," he scoffed, before wincing slightly.

To the former thief's shock, the older man nodded in response with a faint smile. "I'll try to hang on, just a little longer, then… I want to see your proof, Oliver. Promise me that," the fisherman asked weakly.

Oliver, choking up, nodded, smiling. "I promise." He smiled at Eldon. "You'll love it!"

The royal suddenly stood up, patting himself with a rather confused expression. "The pain… It's gone," he found before looking over at the hero.

The kid looked over at Swaine, smiling. "He just needed a reason to keep going, that's all," he explained, simply.

"Who the heck are ya talkin' to, sonny?" The old man raised an eyebrow.

"I- err. No one…," Oliver corrected, returning his attention to Eldon with a smirk.

~*~*~

The fisherman finally got better. The wizard insisted on getting him to a hospital for his sickness that day.

Not too long after, Oliver finally decided to honor his promise. He walked to the river and saw a familiar figure sitting on its shore, fishing pole in hand.

"You ready to see it, Eldon," the wizard asked.

"See what…? Oh, yeah. You did promise me," the older man replied, rubbing the back of his head. He pulled his line in and packed his gear. He headed home to drop it off and in about ten minutes the old man returned. "How are we going to get there?"

"Like this," Oliver shouted, already drawing the Gateway symbol. He transported them both to the hall of the palace.

Eldon clapped his hand over his mouth, backing up. He looked wide-eyed at the boy. When he finally could get the strength to speak back he had an eager air of excitement and wonder. "All this time? You could do magic," he asked, a nod in reply. He slapped his forehead and laughed. "No wonder you weren't scared of drowning!"

The boy chuckled and grabbed the old man's hand. "C'mon, there's someone I want you to meet!"

They ran through the gilded halls of the Porcine Palace. The fisherman looked around, taking it all in. This isn't a dream? Am I really here? The old man thought, his eyes sparkling with wonder.

They arrived at one of the co-emperors' rooms- Marcassin's, this time. Oliver knocked on the door, listening in. He heard two men talking about innovations they could put into the very city of Hamelin itself.

"I'm surprised the guards haven't tried to kick us out," Eldon whispered, unaware of Oliver's status.

"You don't need to worry. They know me." The boy looked slightly up at the fisherman, smiling and shrugging.

The old man stepped back with a gasp, looking down in shock at his young friend. "Wh- How-," he stammered. Did he know this kid at all?

Oliver knocked again.

"Who goes there," a high and mighty voice he knew all too well call.

"It's Oliver," the wizard answered. "I brought someone to see you."

There was a pause for a moment. "Oh, of course. Come on in, Oliver," the voice welcomed, this time in a gentler tone.

He opened the doors to reveal the two emperors, both rising from a magenta satin upholstered seat.

"Oliver," the shorter black haired one began. "I do believe we are in your debt once again." He stepped closer to the taller man adorned with a green cape and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for helping my brother. I was beginning to fear for his life," the sage admitted.

Oliver scratched the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. "No problem, Marcassin. Anything for a friend."

"F-friend? You…," Eldon stammered, breathless. "You know these fine gentlemen, boy?" He motioned to the two rulers.

"Yeah! Oh!" The kid straightened up, remembering something. "I forgot to introduce you. Eldon, this is Emperor Marcassin and Emperor Gascon of Hamelin. They're good friends of mine," he politely introduced, motioning to each of them respectfully.

Wait… if they're royalty- Oh, god. The fishermen thought before suddenly dropping to his knees. "I am pleased to meet you, your majesties- Holinesses? Erm… Highnesses?" He glared at Oliver. "Bow, boy! You're in front of royalty."

"Why should he," Gascon asked. "He's my friend. And if anything, we should be the ones bowing to him. He _did_ save our world after all," the former thief informed coyly, eyeing the old man.

That made the fisherman's eyes widen further. He looked up from his position to meet the lanky royal's eyes. S-saved the world? This kid? He looked over to Oliver who just casually stood there. "You saved _this_ world? How in the- You're so young!"

The wizard laughed and motioned to the rulers. "I didn't do it on my own. I had help from a lot of people who had my back. I don't think I could have done it without them!"

He looked back at the rulers, specifically Gascon. Why he's the spitting image of me when I was thirty! God, did I ever look so young? He thought. He then noticed the ever-growing annoyed look on the co-emperor's face.

"Will you bloody stand up already? It's awkward talking to someone on the floor," he snapped, letting the rugged thief side of him show.

Eldon bolted up, a slight bit of anger on his face. "What kind of ruler talks like that? I always thought they were supposed to be classy and respectful."

Marcassin shook his head closing his eyes for a moment and shrugging. "Excuse Gascon. He can be a bit rough sometimes with his words. It comes from his life as a commoner and thief."

The fisherman blinked for a moment, looking at the sage and then at the older brother. He then shakily pointed at the former thief. "Y-you're the-!"

"The prince and the thief you dreamed of being," Gascon finished, smirking again at his soulmate. "Yeah. That's me." He groaned and put his hands on his hips, looking down. "You gave us all quite a scare, you know. I thought I was going to die. Good thing Oliver talked you out of it and got you some help."

"Yeah, now I'm fit as a- Wait! What?! You were there?! How the- It's one thing after another with this place, isn't it?" The old man gripped the sides of his head. "Why couldn't I see you then? What's the deal?"

"The deal is that Oliver promised you something and he delivered. He always delivers cause that's just the kind of kid he is," was Gascon's response, a hint of a smile on the corner of his lips. "The only issue now is, what are we going to do? If you go and die on us what happens, then?"

"I don't think it was him dying that made your soul react that way," Oliver noted, pensively. He pointed to Gascon. "I think it was the fact that they were out of sync. Eldon's pretty proud of himself, just like you are, Swaine. He's great at what he knows he can do. When he lost hope in himself when he was ill and the hope anyone would ever trust him again, it caused a major conflict with your soul."

"Huh," Eldon asked, looking at Oliver and then Gascon, confused about everything the boy just said.

"What he's saying is that you need to take care of yourself, Eldon. You need to keep hope alive," Marcassin encouraged, approaching him. "You can do that, at least, can't you?"

The fisherman nodded, a shy grin on his face. He rubbed the back of his head. "If it means Oliver won't worry, then I'll do my damnedest." He half bowed to the younger brother. "You have my word, your honor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, then… That got a bit cheesy there at the end… Heh. I always wondered what it would be like if any of the normal world people met their soulmates and could actually talk to them. If Oliver gets to do it, why can't they?
> 
> I tried to make my OC, Eldon, believable. I didn't want him coming off as a cardboard cutout.
> 
> As for the logic of how that all works with soulmates… I actually don't really know myself. While the game gives us some basis for understanding. Though, with it being kind of open-ended on what happens with the connection, it's pretty easy to exploit as a fanfiction writer.


	2. A Soul and The Sea: Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation and conclusion of "The Soul and The Sea".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> Hey, guys! So interesting thing. I decided to write more about Eldon. This is one of those few times when a drabble here gets turned into a two-chapter piece. Yay. So, here we go!
> 
> Shout out to people who support this fic, 'specially [moonbird](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1576308/). She keeps giving me ideas by accident. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Swaine (though we have similar personality traits sometimes). I don't own the rights to this game. I own Eldon... Kind of. I like him. He grew on me.

Two emperors sat in the chamber of the youngest. That gilded room, complete with plush chairs, dark teal curtains, bookshelves at the very back, the finest coffee and end tables, and a large magenta satin "throne" that most would call a fancy sofa, had seen so much and was now the site of where two brothers spent much of their time.

The entirety of their daily lives revolved around kingly and sagely duties. Only when absolutely necessary did one or the other leave the palace. It was enough to make one go stir crazy.

The discussion now? Air quality. It was an issue among much of the Hamelin citizens. The city's filters were changed out monthly, but that still didn't help the smog. So here they plotted and planned, poring over blueprints and schematics to siphon off the smoke and steam released into the city.

The older emperor yawned, leaning back, and stretching, the action reflexively shutting his eyes. He leaned forward with a listless look, frowning while resting his head in his palm. He braced his arm on his knee.

"Something wrong," the younger emperor asked, lifting his head to acknowledge his brother. When he didn't receive an answer, he shook him with a tunic sheathed hand, the older man's head toppled from its perch.

"Huh," he snorted looking up blearily at the sage. "What happened?"

"You were dozing. Are you really that tired, brother," the black-haired man concernedly addressed.

The older brother shook his head. "Just a little… Well… I could use some fresh air- away from here." He looked at the man next to him with a small smile. He leaned forward, looking down at the plans again.

The sage nodded, chuckling. "It does get rather mundane around here, doesn't it?"

A bright beam of light shown in front of them. There stood a boy with red hair wearing a white shirt and black pants, his wand in his belt and a confident smile on his face. "Swaine, Marcassin! Someone wanted to see you guys," he informed.

Next to him was an old man in a red and green plaid shirt with dark grey overalls, a pair of old beige boots, and a scruffy beige hat. His short-haired grey beard and mustache had taken over his jaw. He stood proud, a wide grin on his face and a hopeful glimmer in his eye. He bowed courteously. "Good day, your majesties. I apologize for the intrusion."

It took a moment for them to recall who the elderly man was. People would arrange meetings with them for various reasons, whether it be business propositions or requests for aid. It became very easy to forget who had come through already. The way he stood, though, was very familiar.

"…Eldon," the brown-haired prince asked, leaning forward. Eyes widening in recognition of those all too similar features only a soulmate could have, he stood, his green cape swallowing his tall and lanky form. "It is! Ha! Oh, it's great to see you again," he cheered, walking up to the old man grinning from ear to ear. "How's fishing going?"

A wise chuckle escaped the old man as he shook his head. "Oh, it's fine. Always gives me a sense of purpose…," he reflected. He grabbed the boy to the left of him by the shoulder and shook him gently, causing the youth to laugh. "But thanks to you and Oliver, here, I've got a new goal." He paused for a second and then grinned, "Here's a life tip for ya, your majesty, always have a goal for something, even if it's just getting up in the mornin'."

The emperor thief rolled his eyes with a sly smirk, accepting the sound advice. He put his hands on his hips nonchalantly. "So, what's this new goal," he asked.

"I would like to hear it, too. Surely, you've found something to help keep your spirits up, I hope," Marcassin, the younger emperor, interjected as he rose from the seat.

"The goal is to get the town to like him again," Oliver announced, looking up at the fisherman.

For a moment, an uncertain look crossed the lanky royal's face. He looked at his brother who was also in slight shock. Then came the laughter. "Oh, that is so like you, Oliver. No, really!" He smiled at the two, still chuckling. "That'll be quite a feat, you know. It isn't exactly fighting Nightmares and enraged forest guardians. Hell, it's not even mending broken hearts."

"I got no earthly clue what you're going on about, sir, but we can at least try," Eldon argued, a sour look on his face. He eyed his soulmate bitterly.

The younger brother stepped forward. "Yes, at least. You need friendship most of all. Brother has told me how you live alone, how you live as an outcast in your own town. He isn't mocking you…" He considered his words for a moment. "He knows more than anyone how steep a path you'll be traveling, Mr. Eldon," the sage informed, joining his brother in front of the two. He smiled at them both, acknowledging the unsure look on Oliver's face and the slightly disappointed frown on the old man's. He placed a hand on Eldon's shoulder. "Though, I know without a doubt, my brother's soulmate should be just as stubborn."

"'Eldon' is fine, your majesty," the old man politely informed.

"Well, then. Friends usually call me 'Swaine'," the older emperor corrected.

That threw Eldon for a loop. He had let go of Oliver by this point and stumbled forward at the new information. "'Swaine'? But your name is-," he started, pointing at the lanky royal.

"Emperor Gascon of Hamelin? Yeah, barring my brother, Marcassin, I really do prefer when my friends call me Swaine. It's simpler and rolls off the tongue easier," he admitted, shrugging with a knowing smirk.

The young sage chuckled. "And I wouldn't mind if you did call me by my actual name. We're in good company, are we not?"

The old man blinked for a moment, letting how lax the two emperors were with their formality sink in. "Good god… You two aren't quite what I expected rulers to be like at all. So relaxed about your status. You're… You're almost…"

A laugh escaped Swaine and he eyed Eldon once again. "Human? Like everyday people? We've helped save the world, but at the end of the day… We're still just as fallible as an average citizen. We're not perfect, Eldon." He leaned back, arms crossed nonchalantly, tilting his head to the side. He seemed kind of neutral, almost. An authority figure with the attitude of an ordinary man.

The fisherman looked down and shook his head with a humble smile. He lifted his gaze. "Well, I suppose you've taught me a thing or two, huh?"

"Well, you learn a thing or two when you-," Swaine began to say.

"-When you've seen a thing or two? That's an old chestnut," Eldon finished, a loud bout of laughter escaping him. He held his chest and found his look-alike laughing with him, an unsheathed hand placed on the elder's right shoulder.

Marcassin now stood next to Oliver, watching the pair now in front of them. "Never before have I seen such an even match," he told the hero next to him. "They really are soulmates, aren't they?"

The savior chuckled lightly. "Heh, yeah. It _is_ kind of weird how different they are in age, but they both have a lot in common…" He placed a hand on his chin in thought. "Then again… Kublai's _is_ a dog."

"So," the younger ruler began, shifting the conversation. "What really brings you and Eldon? There must be more than just friendly conversation? Did he wish to see more of Hamelin? Our world?"

"On the contrary," Eldon responded suddenly, still grinning as he turned his head slightly to address Marcassin as well as his counterpart. "I came here to ask your brother if he'd mind joining me for an afternoon of fishing."

"I'd love to learn," the lanky emperor exclaimed, thrilled. The enthusiasm on his face faded suddenly. "Only, I don't think I can just drop my royal duties…," Swaine admitted, rubbing the back of his head, frowning.

The sage shook his head with a pitiful smile. "Gascon, it's alright… You've had this listless air about you for a while, now. I think Hamelin can survive an afternoon without you." He nodded, confirming his stance on the issue. "I'll watch over the Empire while you have some time to breath."

"Are-are you sure? There's still so much we haven't covered and-," he began to argue but was swiftly cut off with an emphatic wave of a lavender sheathed arm. His eyes were fixated on the motion, curious at what his brother had to say.

"You cannot work effectively if you cannot allow yourself time to enjoy life!" He looked up at Swaine's bewildered expression, the older emperor's mouth agape. The sage approached him and grabbed both of his arms, looking into his tired brother's eyes. "I ask you to take the day off, Gascon. Accept Eldon's offer, would you?"

Eldon placed a reassuring hand on the lanky royal's left shoulder. "All work and no play make's Swaine a dull boy," he joked.

"Yeah, and I can show you how good my casting is now," Oliver encouraged, almost bouncing up and down out of sheer enthusiasm next to the former thief. "It'll be swell!"

"Alright, alright! I'll take the day off and learn how to fish," Swaine agreed finally, his eyes glancing up at the ceiling. He sighed and chuckled to himself. "You lot are insane, you know?"

~*~*~

The three appeared in front of the fisherman's small one-story house. It was the same as ever: the white paint fading and flaking from the paneling, the rustic design of the porch, the rocking chair. The royal, dressed in simpler clothes and a tattered green coat, began to wonder if time had passed for any of them. It had been half a year since that fateful day and the place still looked the same.

The old man figured it was because of traveling to that alternate world he could see his counterpart in Motorville, now. He honestly didn't see the need to question it.

Eldon walked to the door and unlocked it. "Just gotta get my fishin' equipment." He opened the door and stood to the side. He motioned towards the interior of his house with one hand. "Come on in! Make yourself at home. This should only take a moment, anyway."

The other two nodded and walked in. More and more details about the old house appeared the more Oliver and Swaine looked. It was amazing how much one could miss in a crisis. On the walls leading to the living area were other pictures of family and friends the fisherman had come to know and love.

A familiar face stood out to the emperor in one picture. "Will," he hesitantly asked, picking out a slightly portly man with his arm around a young Eldon's shoulder. The two were standing in some sort of lot filled with fancier and obviously older vehicles.

"Oh yeah, old teacher of mine! Still around, too," he remarked. "Took me to a motor show with all the latest in automotive innovations at the time!" He seemed to pause from the kitchen where he was filling a cooler with ice. "Wait… How'd you know his name was Will? I never said." The former thief could almost hear him squint in suspicion.

"I actually have a friend by a similar name who looks just like him. He works in getting "hard to obtain" goods, if you know what I mean," Swaine admitted, shrugging. He moved on to the living area.

If there was one thing Eldon and him could disagree on it was his taste. There were a couple of taxidermy fish mounted on his mantle and other parts of the wall. Even the pig theme of Hamelin wasn't as obvious as this man's love for fishing, it seemed. That wasn't the only atrocity committed. The large comfortable chairs were this gold color with pink flowers all over them. The way they were arranged made his eyes hurt, almost. It didn't help that the carpet was an odd shade of green- the kind that awkwardly sat between forest green and a dark shade of gold. The walls, were, thankfully, the most normal part- cream with greyed floral designs running up in a straight vertical line over and over. He turned back to the hallway when he had had enough.

He met the old man in the kitchen. "You've got to do something about that room, Eldon," he teased. "I think I went cross-eyed."

Eldon finally closed the cooler and, with a scoff, he stood up straight. "Like you could try any better, Mr. Swaine. Ye ain't winning any hearts with that outfit," he shot back. He received a sour look, though thankfully ignored. The fisherman checked his fridge, looking for something he needed. "Oh dear. I'm out of ham…" He shut the refrigerator door and walked over to a wooden box just next to the bread box. He opened the lid and peered inside. "Aye, old timer, what are we going to do? Letting thing's slip, we are," the old man muttered to himself. He shut the lid, a disappointed frown on his face.

"What is it," Swaine asked, soon joined by a very enthused red-head going on about how happy he was to see some fish he had helped the old man catch on his wall.

The wizard looked up slightly at the two, hearing the concerned question. "Is something wrong?"

The fisherman shook his head solemnly before looking up, his hands on his hips. "I gotta get bait. I need stale bread and ham for that. Problem is, I just used the last of it preparing our lunch for the day."

"There's a shop in town, right? Wouldn't that have it," Swaine suggested while rubbing the back of his head.

"Yeah," the wizard cheered. "What about Miss Leila's Milk Bar? She always gets some real nice sliced ham in!"

Eldon noticeably grimaced, closing his eyes. "I couldn't. I always hop a bus to the next town over to buy my groceries. Nobody here's gonna serve me, boy."

The gangly royal scowled, crossing his arms. He looked to the cabinets to the left of him. "And you can't use something else," he asked bitterly.

"Ham 'n bread is what the fish like in that river. We're outta luck…," he answered, throwing his hands halfway up in the air. His arms then dangled at his side and he hung his head in defeat. "It takes an hour to get there, more than an hour to walk to the store and shop, and then an hour back. By the time I return-," he began to explain.

"Bull-crap," Swaine snapped, stomping his foot. "No. I won't stand for this. It isn't fair to you- a seventy-year-old man to have to travel so far just to get sustenance for a month. I won't have it, I just won't," he argued, seething. His face contorted into a snarl as he stared the old man down. "I haven't the slightest idea what the hell happened between you and Motorville, but whatever it is shouldn't make them do this to you."

The emperor began to pace frustrated in the small kitchen in front of them, wagging a finger. "No, no, no… No. We need to fix this. We need people to care that you exist. You need friends to care if you're ill- to be there for you." He stopped and looked Eldon in the eye.

The older man closed his eyes, a frown still on his face. "I really don't know if I can fix all of the damage I've done…"

"Not all, just some," Oliver interjected. The old man looked up suddenly. "We just need someone to support you other than me. I can help you convince Miss Leila."

"And that's not all," the former thief acknowledged, nodding with a smile. "I remember someone actually sympathizing with you, Eldon. She was going to bring you medicine," he recalled. "You're not completely at a loss, you see."

"Oh, I remember that lady! She's the one who gave me direct-! Are you okay," the wizard asked, stopping short when he noticed Eldon shaking like a leaf.

Tears started flowing from the old man's eyes and the two stepped closer out of concern. "N-no… I'm fine. It's just- I didn't realize there was anyone like that other than you two." He sniffed, rubbing his eyes with his left arm. "I'm actually very happy to hear that someone else thought of me, not that I'm ungrateful," he rasped, looking up and smiling. "I'll definitely have to stop and thank her later."

"Well, you aren't exactly the worst the world has to offer," Swaine reasoned, smirking. "Now how about we get that delicious bait, eh," he encouraged, raising both fists eagerly.

~*~*~

They stood in front of the door of the Milk Bar. Many people had already taken notice of Oliver and Eldon and some even began to whisper among themselves. The old man seemed to shrink down further, his crooked old back allowing him to hunch worse. He kept his head low, trying to hide in his own clothes.

"Don't do that," Swaine advised, taking note of the familiar action. He'd done it a time or two when he first stole, fearing capture. While it may have been useful to the then novice thief, it was no way to win affection from the citizens. "Your head has to be high, your posture proud," he lectured, almost quoting his younger brother.

"Y-y'know… on second thought. Maybe we should just-!"

"Hey! Don't quit now! You'll never reach your goal, remember," the wizard reminded him.

"You've made up your mind about this, right," the emperor inquired, raising an eyebrow.

The old man stood up straighter. "Right, I _have_ made up my mind," he declared.

"And once you've made up your mind, there's no going back, right? That's the _Eldon_ way," Swaine encouraged.

Right… The Eldon way, the old man thought, giving a final nod. He looked at Oliver with a nervous smile. "You'll help me, right, boy," he worriedly asked.

"Like I promised!" Oliver gave thumbs up, a confident, determined look- the same look he had when he had dived right into that river.

Eldon chuckled, cherishing the expression on the boy's face. These two… Whatever would I do without them? He thought as he entered the shop, his young friend following close behind him.

~*~*~

"Hi and welcome to- W-wait, aren't you-," the young blond began to stammer, eyes wide and the action of restocking a shelf halted. "Miss Leila," she shouted frantically, quickly putting up the supplies and running to the back room of the store.

"Man? What man," a distant voice from the back asked, growing nearer. "You're going to have to be more specific, Myrtle. I don't understand-," a larger woman with light brown hair tied back struggled, rushing out behind the young teen. Her soft expression hardened when she saw who it was. She moved Myrtle behind her, gently but firmly to protect the girl. "Oh. I see. What is it, then? What do you want from us," she interrogated, hands on her hips. She stared the man down.

"Miss, I- err… I just came in to say-," he faltered, taking off his hat, revealing his short wavy grey hair, and holding it in front of his chest, fidgeting with it nervously. His eyebrows furrowed up as he nervously gritted his teeth.

The lady looked behind him and noticed Oliver looking up at the man. He nodded encouragingly, a silent signal to continue. "Oliver! What are you doing with him?! I told you he-," she was cut off swiftly.

He spoke calmly and surely. "Please, ma'am. This boy saved my life. I know you don't like me. I know you think I'm some sort of threat. I know you have the best interest at heart. I applaud you for that, in fact, as a father. But the truth is, I would have given up the will to live without this gentleman, here. Please, don't be hard on him. Such kindness must be rewarded." He looked up, the fidgeting stopped. He had a warm smile on his face and a fierce and proud stubborn fire in his eyes- a fire the likes of which the savior had only seen in a certain thief's.

Eldon looked down, frowning. "I can't say for sure of what I was rambling about a few years ago has any truth to it. In fact, it could have just been part of my grief. I wouldn't hurt any innocent person. I wouldn't even try. Whatever I said or did that brought that type of thinkin', I'm sorry. I just want to live peacefully. I just want to be accepted… I'm just an old man who wants to while his days away on the shore of that river, fishing. Please, ma'am… You don't have to let me buy anything- just say that you'll forgive me?" He looked up, that fire still there, and being contradicted by the tears that now formed there. He gripped the hat tighter, holding it close to his chest.

"Please, Miss Leila? He's not a bad person," Oliver informed, stepping forward. "He actually saved me from drowning…," he paused looking away embarrassed. "Well, again… I was trying to teach myself how to swim." He looked back at the shopkeeper who had seemed to soften up a bit. "If he really were as bad as that, he wouldn't have gone out of his way."

An awkward silence filled the room as Miss Leila tried to recover from the boy's revelation. Myrtle peeked out from around the older lady, curiously. Oliver had supported her and taught her to be brave. He had helped her when no one else dared to. If he was supporting this old man who everyone thought was crazy, then there was something to be said about him. "Miss Leila…," she began, tugging on her boss's dress.

Leila looked down at the blond. "What is it, dear," she asked, her voice a mixture of sweet and stern.

"I think Oliver's right. Maybe we should try to trust him again," she suggested, looking between the old man and the shopkeeper.

The older woman sighed, looking down, thinking. "You're right. Both of you. You're absolutely right." She sniffled, an unforeseen bout of belligerence. "What on earth have we done to this poor man…? Oh, dear," she reminisced guiltily. "I'm the one who should be apologizing, sir. I let petty rumors get the better of me." She looked at Eldon, her compassionate expression returning. "Can _you_ forgive _me_ ," she asked, twisting it around.

"Oh… Oh, god…," the fisherman breathed, shakily. "Of course, ma'am. Of course! I forgive you. I forgive everyone in this town, in fact, whether they know it or not," he announced. "Whether they know it or not," he repeated.

"Then let me be the first to accept your apology," Miss Leila accepted. "In fact, what do you need? Whatever it is, this once, it's on the house."

~*~*~

And that's how he managed to obtain so much ham for his bait. The shopkeeper even had a surplus of old bread she had failed to sell- given to him free of charge while the store he had frequented made him pay. Myrtle, her helper, said that since he would be the only one buying stale bread, there was no point in charging him.

He stood proudly at the shore of the river with Oliver and Swaine, the savior and the emperor, the boy and the thief. He handed the two their respected fishing poles.

"You didn't bring one for yourself," the boy asked, concerned, and confused.

"Nah… I figure once Swaine gets it all figured out I could just watch his. Something tells me he'll take a nap, anyhow," he retorted, slyly looking at the younger man.

"Hey, that's-," he started to argue but felt a slight yawn rise in his throat. "That's… probably true," he muttered reluctantly, looking away from the pair.

Eldon sat down with the former thief and patiently showed him how to rig up a fishing pole. The royal watched carefully, intently. He paid attention to every nimbly tied knot and position of the tackle the old fisherman showed him. "And there you have it! A rig fit for a man of the river!" He handed the rod back to Swaine and scooted closer to the tackle box and coolers.

"Watch this," Oliver shouted, lightly twirling his rod and real like he was casting a spell. He threw it back suddenly and cast the line directly into the middle of the water.

Wide-eyed, Eldon held onto his cap as he stared out at the floating bobber, his left hand suspended in the air above his knee. "Good, gravy, that's one perfect cast there, sonny! Few novices can cast like that!" He relaxed and laughed, his hand finally resting on his knee. "You're a natural born fisherman!"

"Well, casting spells is kind of similar, I guess…," remarked a struggling Swaine, who was trying to figure out what he was doing wrong. He raised the pole, so he could look at the reel closely. He toyed with it for about a half hour before he got the gist of how to cast it. When he finally did cast his line, it landed a good meter or so away from Oliver's. "Well, damn it," he cursed, beginning to wind the line back in. An arm stopped him.

"What are ya doin', boy? Ya won't be able to catch anything if you just keep throwing it back out there over and over," Eldon lectured as he slowly withdrew his gnarled left arm. "Just sit back and relax… Fishin', like thievin', is a game of patience and wit. Unlike thievin', it's legal and downright lovely!"

Swaine glared at the old man. "What would you know about being a thief?"

"When you've had a kid in law enforcement, you learn all sorts of things," he cryptically stated with a knowing smile. All he got was an indignant scoff in return.

The afternoon went on like that. Oliver eagerly waited for a bite. The emperor lied back on the hill with his hands behind his head, napping as promised. Eldon enjoyed the peace of nature as usual with his newfound friends…

Only for a few hours later a bout of yelling broke the tranquility of the afternoon.

"Marcassin? The hell?!" Swaine had woken up to find a flower crown in his hair. When he looked up he saw the sage staring down at him. "When and how did you get here? More importantly, why?"

The sage shrugged and laughed. "Oliver's not the only one who knows how to use Gateway, brother."

"Ah, Marcassin," Eldon began. He nodded at the younger emperor. "Come to take a break?"

"A very small one. I just wanted to see what this _fishing_ business is all about," he waved. "Really, though. I never thought one could enjoy a hobby that most make a day's living from. I didn't even know people _liked_ to do it." The younger emperor shrugged, looking down at a rather annoyed older brother.

"I just can't believe you two, especially that Swaine fellow, don't know how to," the fisherman said. "I thought he'd at least know since he'd have to be livin' on his own as a thief. Shockingly not, it seems."

A growl sounded from beside the two and they looked over at the man in question. "It's not like I never thought about it, you know. I just never got around to it." He shook his head and took the offending flowers from his head. He stared at them for a second and looked up at Marcassin. "What do I look like, a fairy? Really?"

"You looked so peaceful… I thought it would be a nice touch," the young sage teased. "Like a little prince," he giggled.

Swaine leaped to his feet, picking up and throwing the crown down again, unamused. "You're the 'little prince'," he shot back, grumpily.

"Liam's only playing, Swaine," Eldon cut in in an attempt to defuse the situation. Defuse it did, but not in the way he expected.

"Liam," Marcassin wondered, caught off guard by the man's slip of the tongue. "Who's 'Liam'?"

The fisherman rubbed his face in exasperation, realizing his blunder. He looked down and tapped his index finger on his knee. "My only surviving son… I guess it's because you look so much like him I kind of got your names mixed up," he divulged reminiscently.

"Ah, the artist, right? He does look a lot like Marcassin," the older emperor reminded, dropping the flower crown debacle.

Eldon nodded, smiling sadly back up at them. "That's the one. He's so far away now, but he's still my boy." He cleared his throat and watched Oliver who seemed intent on watching the bobber for a bite. "I made a promise to you two to keep my hopes up. I say you should return the favor, your majesties."

The younger and the older emperor exchanged glances and looked back to the fisherman. They both smiled confidently at him. "What is it," the sage asked.

"Whatever you need, just say the word, Eldon," Swaine offered, standing nonchalantly next to his more formal brother.

The old man nodded sagely, smiling. "I guess it goes without saying, but promise me you'll always look out for each other? I know it sounds rather sappy, but you are brothers and family should stick together if they can."

They both exchanged a glance again, but this time the two royal siblings burst into laughter. Eldon looked up at them in shock. "I'm serious, now! What's so funny, you two?"

The former thief shook his head, grinning from ear to ear. "It's nothing- it's just that-!"

"We kind of already agreed on something similar," Marcassin finished through a bout of giggling.

"When I agreed to rule Hamelin by his side, that's the deal we made," Swaine added. "What was it, now? The pledge," he struggled as he turned to his brother for assistance.

"'Even if Hamelin should fall, the royal family will still stand tall'," the sage reminded, still smirking from their recent laughing fit. He placed a fist over his heart, a sign of solidarity.

"'Brother to brother 'till the very end'," the older emperor finished, nodding at his equal.

A chuckle escaped the old man. He leaned back against the hill, himself, relaxing.

"I got a bite," Oliver shouted excitedly, beginning his fight with an aquatic adversary. He pulled on the rod, turning the reel rhythmically. The two brothers watched in a trance as the boy slowly but surely pulled in his catch.

They rushed over to look at the recently caught fish, admiring it. Eldon heard his counterpart fuss about how he still hadn't caught anything, though in a lighthearted tone. He also heard the young sage compliment his prodigy on his fishing skill enthusiastically. "You're all really something, you know," he breathed, looking up at the sky and enjoying the company. The entire town may not have changed their opinions, but he didn't need that. He just needed a couple of people to believe in him. It all started with them, and for now, he was at least happy for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an odd thing I accidentally did. I looked up the meaning of Eldon's name. It means "of old age" commonly. According to one site, people with the name Eldon are naturally excited about adventure and change. I swear. I had no idea. The name kind of just came to me!
> 
> And I hope Eldon was just as believable as last time. I was going to go for a more lighthearted approach than this... but I couldn't. I had to handle the issues he was going through seriously. Sorry.
> 
> Don't worry, next one will go back to focusing on possible events between characters during the plot of the game. I kind of miss that, right now anyway.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the tale of the fisherman! Do review!


End file.
